Fun With Felines
by Belle Walker
Summary: Cats, GSR, and slight casefile. Originally written 2003.


As Grissom entered his office and flipped on the light switch, he immediately sensed that something was different. Leaning one hip against the desk, his eyes quickly scanned the room.

His tarantula cage was on its shelf. Pet cockroaches in their own little habitats. Jar of pickled piglet exactly where he had seen it earlier.

Everything looked right, but something felt a little off.

Grissom shrugged a shoulder. He would find it eventually. And when he did, somebody was going to have to come up with an answer for it.

Grissom pulled his chair away from the desk and started to sit down. He stopped abruptly when he noticed a medium-sized plain white box in his chair. A silver bow sat in the center of the lid, and a small card had been poked halfway under it.

_Aha,_ he thought to himself. Someone _had_ been in his office.

But who would send him a gift? Nobody that he knew of would do that out-of-the-blue. It wasn't a bomb, was it?

Grissom considered dusting it for fingerprints, then quickly dismissed that absurd thought. "You're being paranoid," he mumbled to himself. Bombers didn't usually leave a card with their bombs.

He picked up the box, set it on his desk, and then sat down in his chair. His scientist mind observed that there were two small round holes on each of the four sides of the box. What were the holes for? Opening the card, he couldn't help but smile at the two words scrawled inside. _"From Sara."_

A tiny grey paw emerged through one of the holes on the box, and patted at the card in Grissom's hand. Then it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Grissom lifted the lid and found a pair of round slate-blue eyes staring at him.

"Ma-row!"

Grissom grinned.

Sara had given him a kitten. A little grey kitten with impossibly blue eyes.

"Hey there, little fella."

The kitten regarded Grissom curiously. With an agile leap, it escaped the box and promptly pounced on the bow attached to the lid.

Grissom chuckled and reached out to touch the kitten's head, receiving a loud purr in return.

"Isn't she cute?"

Grissom looked up to find Sara leaning against his doorway, hands in her pockets and a smile on her face. "Yes, she is."

Sara came into the room and sat in one of the chairs facing Grissom. The kitten seemed to recognize her, because it bounced over to her with an expectant "Ma-row!"

"Hey, you," Sara answered, scooping up the kitten with one hand and stroking her soft fur.

"I've never had a kitten before," Grissom stated, watching Sara play with his new pet. "Thank you."

"Never? Hmm." Still holding the kitten, Sara stood up and walked around to Grissom's side of the desk. "Well there's a first time for everything."

As Sara neared Grissom, the kitten suddenly struggled to get free. She leapt from Sara's grasp and landed neatly on Grissom's shoulder.

Grissom raised an eyebrow.

Sara merely grinned. "She likes you."

Grissom made no move to take the kitten off his shoulder, and Sara thought it looked so sweet there that she left it too.

"So what's her name?" he questioned.

"That's up to you."

"Hmm." Grissom was silent for a moment. He grinned shyly as he peered at the grey fuzz ball on his shoulder. "I can't think of anything." He turned his attention back to Sara. "Where did you get her? Pet shop? Humane society?"

Sara shook her head. "I actually rescued her and her sister from my neighbor. He found them in an old empty building and was going to take them to the pound. I just couldn't let him do that."

It was no surprise to Grissom that Sara had rescued this kitten. Her heart always had a soft spot for animals. "Did you keep the other one?"

"Yeah." Sara perched on the edge of Grissom's desk, careful not to knock his paperwork to the floor. "The other one is pure black. I named her Coal. Like charcoal, you know?"

Grissom nodded.

"This one reminded me of you," Sara added with a smile. The smile turned to laughter, for the kitten had suddenly decided to take a journey from Grissom's shoulder to Sara's sleeved arm. Her tiny claws didn't hurt, but they sure tickled.

"She certainly is curious," Grissom observed.

"Yeah, that's one of the things that reminded me of you," Sara answered.

"Oh really?" Grissom's own curiosity was piqued now. "What else?"

Sara pondered that for a moment. "Well, she's sweet, kind of quiet...adventurous. And she has lovely blue eyes," She finished, purposely looking at the kitten now perched on her shoulder, avoiding Grissom's gaze as she made that statement.

Grissom's own blue eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her face. Sara had an unreadable expression, though. He didn't have long to wonder about her statement, because just then Catherine Willows entered the office.

"Hey, I've been looking for you," Catherine said. She waved a file folder at Grissom.

"Ack!" Sara exclaimed. Not because Catherine was present, but because the kitten had looked at the other CSI with wide-eyed terror and dashed for cover under Sara's hair.

Grissom burst out laughing.

Catherine raised an eyebrow at them. "What's going on?"

"Ow! Griss—a little help here, please?" Sara was attempting to extricate the kitten from her hair, with little success.

Grissom got his laughter under control and came to Sara's rescue. "Come here, Dusty." He stood behind Sara, and carefully separated grey kitten from brown hair. "Troublemaker," he said affectionately with a smile for his kitten.

"Dusty, huh?" Sara asked as she smoothed her dark hair back into place.

"Yeah." Grissom offered no explanation for his choice of a name. He stroked the kitten's soft fur to calm her down, and turned his attention to the blonde woman in front of his desk. "Can I help you, Catherine?"

Catherine was still looking at them both quite strangely. "Well for starters, you could explain why there's a cat in your office."

"A kitten," Grissom corrected. "Sara gave her to me."

"Sara did?" Catherine echoed flatly.

"Yep." Grissom rubbed Dusty's ears, then allowed Sara to take her again.

Sara took the kitten to a far corner of Grissom's office, where she had stashed a plastic pet carrier with a soft blanket inside, and small food and water bowls. Dusty would be fine in there for the rest of the day. There were only two hours left on this shift anyway.

Grissom, meanwhile, was returning Catherine's odd stare. "What's the matter? Don't you like cats?"

"I'm more of a dog person," Catherine answered. She laid a sheet of paper down in front of Grissom. "I got your AFIS results. Fingerprint off the baseball bat belongs to a Mark DeLuca. Brass is on his way right now to bring the guy in for questioning."

"Thanks." Grissom gave his attention to the page in front of him, silently dismissing Catherine.

Suddenly feeling like the fifth wheel, Catherine spun on her heel and exited Grissom's office.

Sara went to follow her, pausing next to Grissom and picking a hair off his shoulder.

"Cat hair?" he questioned without looking up.

Sara smiled slightly at him. "Kitten hair."

Grissom smirked as he watched Sara saunter through the doorway.

* * *

Two months later, Sara was busy dusting her apartment when her cell phone rang. Wondering who would be calling her on a Sunday, she found her phone and answered it. "Sidle."

"Hey Sara, this is Grissom."

"Hi."

"Are you busy today?" Grissom wanted to know.

"Not really," Sara answered. "I was just dusting my living room. Why?"

"Um, I was wondering if you would like to come by my apartment. There's something I want to show you. An experiment, of sorts."

"Sure, Griss. What kind of experiment?"

"You'll see when you get here."

Sara could almost hear him grinning through the phone. "All right. What time should I be there?"

"Any time. Whenever you can. Bring your cell phone. You'll need it for the experiment," Grissom answered. "Oh, and why don't you bring your cat with you? I haven't seen Coal yet," he reminded Sara.

"Uh, okay."

Almost as if on cue, Coal jumped up on the freshly dusted desk and looked at Sara curiously.

"We'll be there in a few minutes."

* * *

Grissom opened the door almost immediately after Sara knocked. With a smile, he stood back politely and let Sara into his apartment.

Sara stepped into the livingroom and set down her black vinyl kitty carrier. Dusty promptly appeared and wound herself around Sara's ankles, stopping to sniff at the carrier.

"I brought Coal," Sara said, bending down to pet Dusty and let Coal out of her confinement.

A little black nose peeked out, sniffing around, then a sleek black cat emerged. She touched noses with Dusty, then gave a cheerful "Mrrp!"

"Seems they remember each other," Grissom observed, also kneeling on the floor.

Coal rubbed her head against his knee, leaving a few loose hairs behind.

"Hello to you, too," Grissom addressed the cat, caressing her ears.

"So, what's this experiment you want to show me?" Sara asked eagerly. "Nothing with blood, I hope."

"Nope," Grissom answered with a grin as he stood up. "No blood, no bugs, no meat." He sat down sideways on his couch, with his back against the armrest.

Sara followed him to the couch, kicked off her sandals, and also sat down sideways, facing him. Her lap was immediately occupied by Dusty. Coal, feeling left out, hopped up into Grissom's lap.

"My experiment involves Dusty," Grissom began. "You know that she's quite curious. And that got me thinking about her intelligence level. That, in turn, inspired my experiment. I've been training her off and on for about a month."

"Training her? To do what?" Sara didn't know you could train a cat.

Grissom didn't answer that question right away. Instead, he asked, "Bring your cell phone?"

"It's in my pocket," Sara answered a little suspiciously. "Why? What do you need it for?"

Grissom grinned. "Watch this. Dusty?"

At the mention of her name, Dusty's ears perked up and she looked at Grissom.

"Call Sara," Grissom requested.

"Ma-row!" Dusty jumped off Sara's lap, crossed the room, and leapt onto Grissom's desk. She pawed at the phone receiver until she knocked it off the hook. That done, she pushed at the first speed-dial button on the phone pad with her dainty paw. A second later, Sara's cell phone rang.

With an astounded look to Grissom, Sara pulled her cell phone out and hit the "talk" button. She held the phone up to her ear, and heard a distinct "ma-row!" on the other end.

"That's amazing — how did you do that?" Sara asked.

Grissom gave a shy grin and explained to her how he had been training Dusty for the past month. First he programmed his own cell phone number into the first speed-dial button. With repetition — and plenty of tasty rewards — he taught her to knock the receiver off and step on the first speed-dial button. And then Grissom simply reprogrammed the button with Sara's cell number instead of his. "You know what the really strange part of it is?"

"You mean, other than the fact that your cat uses the phone?" Sara replied with a little grin.

Grissom chuckled at that. "I have yet to figure out why, but Dusty will _not_ push the speed-dial buttons for Nick, Catherine, or Warrick. It seems like every time I try to get her to push one of their buttons, she just puts her ears back at me and walks out of the room."

"That _is_ strange. Even for a cat." Sara thought back to the day she had given the grey kitten to Grissom. Dusty had panicked when Catherine entered the room. That memory made her chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Grissom asked, looking at her amused expression.

"Oh, nothing. You remember when I was holding Dusty in your office, and Catherine came in? Dusty hid from her. She didn't like Catherine from the start."

"That's true." Grissom tried to control the grin that that memory evoked. He didn't really know who to pity—his cat, for being scared...or Catherine, for being scary.

Sara studied the grey cat perched on Grissom's desk, then said, "Come here, Dusty."

Dusty considered her request for a moment, then jumped down and sauntered over to Sara. She sat daintily on the floor at Sara's feet and looked at her as if to say, "Well, what do you want?"

Grissom watched Sara curiously. "What are you doing?"

"An experiment," Sara answered simply. She addressed Dusty as if she were another person, rather than a cat. "So tell me, Dusty. What do you think of...Grissom?"

"Ma-row!"

Grissom chuckled. "What did she say?"

Sara looked at Grissom from the corner of her eye. "She said you're very nice," She answered with a grin. She addressed Dusty again. "What about...Brass?"

Dusty's only reaction was a blank stare. Coal, still in Grissom's lap, gave a big yawn.

"Can't argue with that," Grissom put in with a smirk. He looked to Dusty again, as if she had the answers to the questions that perplexed him. "Do you like Sara?" he asked his cat.

Dusty answered that one with a loud purr.

"Well, at least she likes _you_," Grissom said softly, looking at Sara.

Sara's throat constricted as she found herself lost in his gaze. She quickly averted her eyes and fingered the frayed edges of her cut-off jeans shorts.

Grissom's desk phone had been off the hook for too long, and the dial tone chose that moment to loudly object through the overwhelming silence.

"Um, your phone is still off the hook," Sara said. She practically jumped off the couch and walked just a little too quickly to the desk. She could feel Grissom's eyes on her as she replaced the receiver in its cradle and came back to the couch.

Coal, in a sudden burst of playfulness, jumped off the back of the couch and tore off after Dusty. She chased Dusty around the coffee table, across Grissom's lap, and over Sara's shoulder. They circled around, finally coming to a stop under the coffee table.

Sara raised an eyebrow at the two cats, then looked at Grissom.

He was grinning at her.

She grinned back, and the tension in the air was broken.

"So," Sara found herself saying. "Do you think Coal is trainable too?"

"To use a speed-dial phone?"

"Yeah."

"Possibly," Grissom answered. "I don't see why not." He spoke to the sleek black cat under his coffee table. "Hey Coal, come here."

Coal lifted her head, gave Grissom a somewhat accusing look, and curled up against Dusty, with her back to the humans.

Sara snickered.

"Well," Grissom said with feigned sarcasm. "I wonder where she learned _that_ from." He glanced at Sara pointedly.

Sara pretended to be offended, leaning forward slightly and playfully swatting at his shoulder. "Hey! Be nice, you."

Grissom was about to toss her a comeback when his cell phone rang. He picked it up off the coffee table. "Grissom." He listened for a minute, then said, "I'll be right there."

"What's up?" Sara asked when he put his phone away.

"That was Brass." He sighed. "Our only murder witness was found in his house—murdered. Nick and I have a new crime scene to process."

"Need my help?" Sara grabbed her sandals and threw them on her feet.

Grissom smiled at her enthusiasm. "What about your day off?" he reminded her.

Sara shrugged a shoulder. "Day's almost gone anyway. Not like a few hours makes a difference."

"You can't go to a crime scene dressed like that," Grissom stated, looking Sara up and down.

Sara looked down at her bare legs and cut-off jeans shorts. "True," she agreed. "Give me the address. I'll meet you there."

Grissom wrote down the address and gave it to her, saying, "You can leave Coal here — she and Dusty will be just fine."

"Great!" Sara headed towards the door.

"Sara!" Grissom picked her keys up off his coffee table and tossed them to her. "Might need these."

She caught the keys, then flashed him a gap-toothed smile and shut the door behind her.

* * *

Sara stifled another yawn as she appeared at Grissom's elbow. "Ready to head to the lab?"

"_I_ am." Grissom noticed her sleepy eyes and said, gently but firmly, "But _you're_ going home."

Sara immediately protested.

"Sara," Grissom warned. "You're exhausted. I don't want you wearing yourself out again like you did last month, and the month before...and the month before that."

At the mention of her workaholic habits, Sara looked down sheepishly. Nick came to stand beside her, and she turned her entreaties on him. "Help me out here, Nicky. Grissom is trying to make me go home."

Nick smiled at her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Grissom's right, Sara. I saw you yawn about ten times in as many minutes. You can't help us very well if you fall asleep."

Sara fought the urge to stomp her feet like a little child. "Oh, fine! I'll go home. But I'm _not_ happy about it!" She shook her finger at Nick.

Nick smirked and patted her cheek with his hand. "Aww, poor thing."

Sara shot him a mock glare, and turned away to set her silver forensics-collection case in the company vehicle. Grissom and Nick could process the evidence she collected.

* * *

Sara was halfway home when she remembered that her cat was still at Grissom's townhouse. She considered leaving Coal there for the night, then thought better of it. She made her way to Grissom's home.

Once she was on his doorstep, Sara had no trouble finding Grissom's spare key. She entered the apartment, turned on a lamp, and shut the self-locking door behind her. Coal was not in immediate sight, and didn't appear when Sara called her name.

Both cats must be hiding, Sara decided. She picked up the cat carrier and set it on the coffee table. Her gaze fell on the couch.

Nice couch. Comfy couch. _Inviting couch_, her tired body said.

It wouldn't hurt to just sit down for a minute. Sara could find Coal later. She rested her head against the arm of the couch and closed her eyes. _Just a few minutes_, she told herself.

* * *

When Grissom unlocked his door and went inside his apartment, his first thought was, "Didn't I turn that lamp off?" His eyes scanned the livingroom, looking for anything else out of place.

He smiled to himself when he noticed the sleeping form on his couch.

Sara was curled up in the corner of the furniture piece, using the armrest as a pillow.

Grissom assessed the situation, seeing the cat carrier on the coffee table next to his spare key. He concluded that Sara must have came back for her cat, set the carrier on the table along with his key, and sat down to rest for a minute.

He quietly peeked inside the cat carrier. Coal was lounging comfortably inside, as if she slept there every night.

Sara looked so peaceful sleeping on his couch that Grissom just didn't have the heart to wake her. He took a blanket from his linen closet and gently covered her with it. He very carefully removed her shoes from her feet, stowing them under the coffee table. Then he replaced his spare house key, turned off the lamp, and retired to his bedroom.

* * *

Sara awoke to sunlight in her face and something heavy on the middle of her back, seemingly holding her down. She found herself to be stretched out on her stomach on something too narrow to be her bed. A blanket covered her, with the fringe tickling her nose. She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand, opening them slowly.

Two green eyes belonging to Coal watched Sara from less than a foot in front of her.

Sara turned her head and looked over her shoulder, finding the source of the weight on her back.

Dusty sat there, looking quite proud of herself, with a contented feline grin.

"Mrrp!" Coal patted at Sara's nose with her black paw.

"Whaddya want," Sara mumbled, closing her eyes again with no intention of getting up.

"Mrrp!" Coal tried again.

Sara pulled the blanket over her head. "Go away."

But Coal was not to be deterred. With nimble grace, she leapt heavily onto Sara's back and joined Dusty.

"Ulgh!" Sara reached an arm behind her and shooed the cats away. She rolled over onto her back and stretched her legs over the other armrest, flinging an arm across her eyes to block out the light.

"With felines around, who needs an alarm clock?" Grissom quipped.

Sara lifted her arm and squinted into the half-light, seeing his outline in his desk chair across the room. "Oh, hey," she said.

"Good morning." Grissom was leaning back in his desk chair, with his feet propped up on the edge of his desk. He was working a crossword puzzle. He peeked over the top of his crossword as Sara stood, stretched her arms, and folded up the fringed blanket.

"I'm sorry," Sara said to Grissom.

"For what?" Grissom responded.

"For falling asleep on your couch." Sara raked her fingers through her tousled hair, trying to tame it a little. "I came back here for Coal. I only meant to close my eyes for a minute or two."

Grissom dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "No problem. There's fresh coffee, if you want some."

"Ooooh...thank you." Sara smoothed out her rumpled clothes and made her way to the coffee pot. She filled a large coffee mug to the brim, then added some sugar. She leaned back against the counter, sipped her coffee, and watched Grissom fill in his crossword puzzle.

"What level?" Sara asked, referring to Grissom's crossword.

Grissom answered without looking up. He knew what she was referring to. Their brains often functioned on the same wavelength. "Advanced." He seemed to be stuck on a clue, because he sat there thinking, pressing the eraser of his pencil against his bottom lip.

"Hmm." Sara pushed herself away from the counter and sauntered over to Grissom's chair. She bent down and peered over his shoulder to see what clue he was contemplating.

Grissom slowly, deliberately, turned his head to look at her.

Sara set her coffee mug on the corner of his desk, purposefully reached over his shoulder and selected a pen from his pen caddy. She placed one hand on the back of Grissom's chair, to brace herself. She leaned over his arm, her chin almost touching his shoulder, and filled in the last seven blanks of his crossword puzzle.

Grissom tore his gaze from Sara's face and looked at his now completed crossword. How did she know the answer to that question? He turned his head again and raised his eyebrow at her, expecting an explanation.

Sara calmly returned his gaze, then gave him a gap-toothed smile, dropped the pen back in the caddy, picked up her coffee mug, and sat down in his cushy recliner.

Grissom watched her do all this, then tossed his crossword onto the top of his desk and said, "Okay, Miss Smarty-pants. How did you know that answer?"

Her reply was a mysterious smirk. "Never you mind."

"Hmmph." Grissom put away his conquered crossword, not at all angry that Sara had completed it. On the contrary, he was very proud of her brainpower. It was one of the many things he admired in her.

Sara, after her second cup of coffee, decided that she was awake enough to drive herself home. Coal was once again lounging in her carrier, so Sara simply zipped it up with her inside. She emptied her coffee cup, rinsed it in the sink, and bid goodbye to Grissom.

* * *

Three weeks.

Three long, _grueling_ weeks, at the end of which Grissom had put Catherine in charge as Acting Supervisor so that he could have two days off to relax.

The first day he _did_ relax. He caught up on his forensic journal reading and watched a game of baseball on the television.

The second day, he felt extremely bored. So he cleaned his house — something he had neglected for too long.

Grissom admired his handiwork. The wood floor in his kitchen shone splendidly, the results of a good waxing. All surfaces free of dust, dirt, and cat hairs.

Grissom fed Dusty, then circled his living room, checking on and feeding his other live pets—his bugs.

He was stretched out on the couch in his small library, reading a book of dark and dreary poems by Edgar Allan Poe, when he heard a noise at the other end of his house.

It wasn't Dusty — she was curled up on Grissom's feet, purring away.

He heard it again. The sound came from the living room. Grissom got up to investigate.

He never saw it coming. He only felt the sudden pain in his head, shoulder and ribs as he was thrown to the hallway floor. Everything went black.

Grissom woke up to something tickling his face.

Dusty was sniffing at his cheek.

His vision was blurry and he tried to sit up, but the pain didn't allow it.

"Dusty," he groaned.

"Ma-row!"

"Call—ugh! Call...Sara," he managed to gasp out, around the pulsing pain he felt.

"Ma-row!" Dusty gave him one last sniff, then trotted to the livingroom. She jumped on the desk, pawed the phone receiver off its cradle, and pushed the first speed-dial button.

* * *

Nick and Sara were in the break room, discussing fingerprint powder.

Sara was at the sink, talking while she filled the coffeepot decanter with water for a fresh batch of coffee.

Nick lounged at the table. "Have you ever used the neon pink?" he asked Sara.

"Yeah, I did," Sara answered with a smile. "On a robbery case once, I dusted a countertop with pink. Catherine threw a fit that I wasn't using the standard black."

Nick laughed. "I printed a car with the green. Made me nauseous afterwards, because it kinda reminded me of one of Grissom's mold experiments."

Sara chuckled. She poured the water into the coffeepot. "Hey, check it out," she said, holding up a small Ziplock bag full of coffee grounds. "I swiped some of Greg's Hawaiian Blue."

Nick pretended to be astonished. "You thief!"

Sara grinned shamelessly. "So?" She dumped in some of the expensive coffee grounds, then hid the rest far back inside a cupboard. Searching for two coffee mugs, she found no clean ones.

Sara's cell phone was on the table with her keys, and it rang as she was washing out two large coffee mugs. "Can you answer that for me?"

Nick shrugged and picked up her phone. "Sara Sidle's phone," he said by way of greeting.

There was silence on the other end, then something Nick could have sworn sounded like a cat meowing.

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

"Who was it?" Sara asked. Her back was to Nick as she rinsed the mugs.

Nick wore a puzzled expression. "That was strange. I swear that sounded like a cat on the phone."

Sara nearly dropped a mug. She spun around to face Nick. "Did you say a _cat_?" She demanded.

"Yeah." Nick was taken aback by the look on Sara's face. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Grissom!" Sara hissed, grabbing her phone out of Nick's hand. She dialed Grissom's home phone number, praying that he was just fine and would answer the phone.

All she got was a busy signal.

Sara dialed Grissom's cell phone and waited impatiently as it rang without being answered.

In a near panic, Sara clumsily dropped her cell phone on the table and didn't bother grabbing it again. "Cover for me — I have to go." She snatched up her keys and dashed out of the lab.

* * *

Grissom's front door was wide open.

Sara's trained eye scanned over the broken lock. She drew her gun and approached cautiously.

"Grissom?" she called into the house.

No answer.

Sara checked each room, making sure there were no intruders to surprise her. She spotted Grissom in the hallway.

Dusty crouched near his head, looking at Sara as if to say, "Well, _do_ something."

Sara holstered her gun and knelt at his side. "Grissom?" she said softly, checking for a pulse and feeling great relief when she found the steady beat.

His breathing was fine.

Sara gingerly checked for injuries. There was no blood present, but a bruise was forming on Grissom's arm.

"Griss?" Sara cupped his cheek gently with her hand and willed him to open his eyes. "Come on, Griss. Wake up. Say something. Let me know you're okay."

Grissom's eyes opened and his hand lifted slowly and pressed against the side of his head. "Ow."

Sara almost laughed with relief. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Grissom tried to sit up, but dizziness prevented that.

Sara forced him to lie back down, putting a firm hand on his chest to keep him there. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

Grissom protested. "Don't need a hospital," he mumbled. He squinted his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Mmmh," he grunted.

"Don't argue with me, Grissom. You probably have a concussion." Sara reached for her cell phone, but remembered she had accidentally left it with Nick. She used Grissom's desk phone and called an ambulance.

When she returned to Grissom's side, he was unconscious again but breathing steadily. Sara touched his cheek with her fingertips. She remembered the last time she had done that. A smile came to her face as she recalled Grissom's expression at her touch. "Chalk," Sara had claimed at the time. "From plaster."

* * *

She rode in the back of the ambulance with Grissom.

He was conscious again, but had his eyes closed. He lay on the stretcher on his back, looking so calm and peaceful.

Sara brushed her fingers through Grissom's curls, frowning at the slight bruise that was already forming near the hairline.

The medic told her that Grissom had a bump on the head and possibly a concussion, but assured her that he should be okay.

Grissom shifted slightly and opened his eyes. "Sara?" he managed weakly. He held a hand out to her.

"Hey." Sara took his hand in hers. "You gave me a scare."

"Sorry."

"How do you feel?" Sara asked, absently stroking the back of his hand.

Grissom was more awake now. He thought a moment, then answered. "My shoulder hurts. Ribs hurt. Head hurts."

"I'll bet," Sara said sympathetically. "What happened, Griss? Did someone break into your house?"

But Sara never got her answer, because the ambulance had arrived at the hospital and she was nudged out of the way as Grissom was rolled inside.

Sara used the phone in the waiting room and called Nick.

"Sara!" Nick was anxious. "Where are you? What's going on?"

"Grissom's at the hospital," Sara answered. "I think somebody broke into his house while he was there." She explained the situation to Nick and added, "I want to talk to Grissom before we go barging into his house and confiscating everything for evidence."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Nick agreed. "Grissom's privacy is sacred to him. Listen, do you need anything? Need me to be there with you?"

"No. No, I'll be fine. Thanks." Sara ran a hand through her slightly tangled hair. "Could you do me a favor, though? Tell Catherine what's going on? I don't want her mad at me for not coming back to work today."

Nick smiled even though she couldn't see him through the phone. "Sure. Give me an update on Grissom when you can."

* * *

"I have a cracked rib," Grissom told Sara half an hour later.

Sara stared at Grissom. "That's all? A cracked rib?"

"And a mild concussion," Grissom admitted. "Good thing I have a hard head."

Sara snickered. "Got that right."

Grissom's hospital bed was of the adjustable variety, and he currently had it set to a forty-five degree angle. Since there were no visitor chairs in the room, Sara perched on the edge of the bed, next to his legs.

"How did this happen, Grissom?"

Grissom sighed slightly and leaned back into the mattress. He tried to get as comfortable as one possibly could with a cracked rib. "I was reading in my library when I heard a noise. Sounded like someone prowling around in the living room. I knew it wasn't Dusty; she was with me. Um, I got up to investigate. Next thing I know, I'm on my back on the floor and you're telling me to wake up."

Grissom looked at Sara curiously as his mind formed a question. "How did you know to check on me, Sara?" He jokingly asked, "You don't have my house bugged with little cameras or microphones, do you?"

Sara gave a smirk at his light teasing. "You don't remember telling Dusty to 'call Sara' ?"

Realization sunk in. "Oh," Grissom replied sheepishly. "Come to think of it, I _do_ remember that."

"Yeah. Almost gave me a panic attack when your cat called my cell phone." Sara smiled at Grissom. "You know, I think Dusty deserves a reward for rescuing you."

Grissom chuckled, and grimaced slightly as his sore ribs protested the movement. "She loves tuna," he told Sara.

"Tuna, it is." Then Sara remembered her promise to give Nick an update of Grissom's condition. "Oh, I need to call Nick. He wanted to know how you are doing." Once more, Sara started to reach for her cell phone, only to remember once more that she didn't have it. "I'll be right back."

Using the waiting room phone once again, Sara called Nick and told him of Grissom's cracked rib and concussion.

Nick relayed the news to Catherine and Warrick, who were practically breathing down his neck in anticipation. They all insisted on coming to the hospital to see Grissom.

Sara gave Nick the room number, then hung up the phone.

"I'm back," she said, returning to Grissom's side. His eyes were half-closed, but he opened them when Sara reappeared. "Nick, Warrick and Catherine are coming here. They want to see for themselves that you're okay."

"Okay," Grissom responded. He sounded kind of sleepy.

Sara sat on the mattress again, bending one leg underneath, and looked at Grissom. "Tired?" she asked.

"Nah," Grissom said. "Just bored. And I kinda feel guilty laying here instead of getting up and doing something."

Sara gave him a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, I didn't bring any crossword puzzles with me."

Grissom smiled, reaching up and gently brushed the back of his finger across Sara's cheek. "Thank you," he said.

"What for?" Sara asked, surprised at Grissom's openly caressing touch. She decided to attribute his unusually intimate behavior to his concussion.

Grissom gave a slight shrug of his shoulder. "For helping me," he said simply. With a little smile that lit up his blue eyes, he tugged playfully on a few strands of Sara's hair. "You're always helping somebody," he said.

Sara linked her fingers with his and held the back of his hand against her cheek. "Isn't that what we do? Help people?" she said lightly.

"Among other things," Grissom replied.

"We're gonna have to process your house," Sara told Grissom. "Obviously, you had an intruder. And you could have been seriously hurt, or killed even."

"Yeah," Grissom said softly. "I know."

"You okay with that? I know you value your privacy," Sara said.

"Do I really have a choice?" Grissom answered helplessly. "We need to catch the guy before he breaks into more homes and causes more damage."

A knock on the open door caused Sara and Grissom to tear their gazes apart and look up. Catherine, Nick, and Warrick strode into the room, greeting them.

Nick raised an eyebrow at Sara.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Sara removed Grissom's hand from her cheek. They kept their fingers linked together on the mattress, hidden from sight by the folds of Grissom's blanket.

With a sly grin, Nick handed Sara her cell phone.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"How ya doing, boss?" Catherine asked Grissom.

"Just peachy," he responded dryly. "They want to keep me overnight for observation."

"Well, that will give us time to dust your house for fingerprints," Catherine stated matter-of-factly. "What?" she asked as four pairs of eyes locked onto her. "We are going to try to catch this guy, aren't we?" Her question was aimed at Grissom.

"Of course," Grissom answered her quickly. "It's just strange to think of my own home as a crime scene."

"Hey, Sara," Nick said. "You care to tell us just exactly how you knew Grissom was in trouble? I'm beginning to wonder if maybe you two have ESP or something."

Sara and Grissom shared a secret smile.

"You're an investigator, Nick," Grissom told him. "Why don't you figure it out?"

"I will...I will," Nick said, not wanting his ego to get bruised. He looked at Sara. "It had something to do with that phantom call on your cell phone, didn't it? Am I right?"

Sara merely smiled at Nick. Then she turned her attention to Warrick. "Did you ever find your shooter?" she asked, referring to Warrick's current murder case.

Warrick's eyes lit up. "Yeah. Found the shooter and the gun," he said proudly. "Guy confessed to everything."

"That's great!"

They all conversed back and forth until a nurse came in to shoo them out.

"Looks like you're still acting supervisor, Catherine," Warrick commented.

"Oooh, you better heal up fast, Griss," Nick teased, ducking Catherine's fist.

"You'd better call me when they release you," Sara told Grissom.

"I will," Grissom assured her.

Sara reluctantly let go of Grissom's hand, stood up, and followed Warrick, Catherine, and Nick out of the room.

"Hey, Sara?" Grissom's voice brought her back into the doorway. "Do me a favor? Keep Dusty at your place until they release me? I don't want her escaping and getting lost. I'll pay you back for whatever food she eats or the messes she makes."

"Don't worry about it, Grissom. I'll take care of her." Sara awarded him a gap-toothed smile and disappeared into the hallway.

* * *

"You're not gonna tell me, are you?" Nick asked Sara as they entered Grissom's townhouse.

Sara laughed. Nick was still stuck on the ESP thing. "It hasn't occurred to you that my phantom call could have been Grissom, himself?"

"I did consider that," Nick defended himself. "But something doesn't add up here. If it was Grissom, why didn't he say anything when I answered your phone?"

Sara opened her mouth to respond, but Nick wasn't finished talking.

"And there's that little mystery of why something sounding oddly like a cat meowing made you think to call Grissom's house, consequently getting a busy signal, rushing to his house, and finding him unconscious."

"You're making me feel like a suspect here, Nick," Sara admonished.

Nick was instantly apologetic about making her uneasy. "Sorry. That's just the investigator side of me," he offered. "I know it wasn't you who put Griss in the hospital. I'm just trying to figure it out."

Sara showed them where she had found Grissom.

"Now, you see?" Nick demanded. "He couldn't have called you! His cell phone is over there on the coffee table, and there's no way he stretched his arm fifteen feet across the room to use the desk phone."

"So, let's get started," Catherine ordered, opening her kit.

Sara left them all in the hallway and searched the townhouse for Dusty, finally finding her hiding under Grissom's bed.

Dusty came out when she saw Sara, and allowed herself to be picked up and carried into the living room.

"Is that the cat you gave Grissom?" Catherine asked, shaking a lock of blonde hair out of her face.

"Yep," Sara answered. "Guys, this is Dusty. She likes very few people, but she trusts me so I'm going to process her for evidence."

"Fine with me," Catherine stated, giving the wide-eyed feline a strange look. "What's she glaring at me for?"

Sara controlled the amused grin that she felt emerging. "You know, I couldn't tell you."

Dusty's fur and claws yielded nothing out of the ordinary. Sara let her go, and she curled up on the back of the couch with a watchful eye on them.

Sara was mildly disappointed at the lack of evidence, but cheered up a little when Warrick bagged a few short, reddish hairs from the hallway floor.

"My fingerprints will be on Grissom's desk phone," Sara told them. "I used it to call the ambulance."

"I still wanna know how you knew to come here in the first place," Nick prodded Sara.

Sara smiled innocently. "Oh, you were right, Nick," she strung him along. "Grissom and I _do_ have ESP."

Nick narrowed his eyes at her and took photos of the damaged front door lock.

Catherine dusted the door and knob for fingerprints.

After they collected all the evidence of Grissom's attack, Sara finally relented to Nick's queries. She handed him her cell phone.

Nick raised an eyebrow questioningly at her.

"When it rings, answer it," Sara explained. "Are you all paying attention? Cause I'm only gonna do this once."

"We're waiting," Catherine said impatiently.

Sara ignored her. "Dusty?" she called.

"Ma-row!"

"Hey, that's what I heard on your cell phone!" Nick exclaimed. "But how— "

"Watch, and learn," Sara interrupted. "Dusty, call Sara."

Sara's colleagues watched in shock as Dusty jumped on Grissom's desk, knocked the receiver off its cradle, and pushed a speed-dial button.

Nick almost dropped the cell phone in his hand when it rang shrilly. He pushed the "talk" button and held it up to his ear, wide-eyed as he heard another meow filter through the metal object.

Sara took in everyone's dumbfounded expressions, and explained the situation. "Grissom trained Dusty to call me if he ever got in trouble and needed help here," she finished.

"Unbelievable," Warrick stated. "Well, Dusty's training certainly came in handy, didn't it."

* * *

Sara left her field kit with Catherine and took Dusty to her apartment for the night.

Dusty snooped through every inch of Sara's apartment, pausing only long enough to share a tuna dinner with Coal.

Coal seemed delighted to have Dusty in her company once more, and frequently pounced on her in a playful manner.

Sara munched on a granola bar, dreading the thought of pulling a double shift at the lab. That thought was quickly replaced by a twinge of guilt.

This was no ordinary Breaking & Entering they were investigating. A crime had been committed against Grissom...their boss, friend, and mentor.

The perpetrator could strike again, finding another, more unfortunate victim. Not solving the crime was simply not an option.

* * *

"What've you got?" Sara asked Warrick, peering over his shoulder.

"Those reddish hairs I bagged? Got a hit on CODIS. Mark DeLuca," Warrick told her.

"DeLuca? Are you sure?"

Warrick's eyebrows furrowed. "You know that name?"

Sara nodded. "He's supposed to be in jail. What's he doing out?"

Warrick tapped a few keys on the computer keyboard, and a new window popped up. "He was released on bail a few days ago." He turned back to Sara. "How do you know him?"

"He was put away a couple of months ago for Assault and Battery. Grissom was primary investigator on that case." Sara chewed thoughtfully on her thumbnail.

"You think he came back to get revenge on Grissom?"

"I don't see why he wouldn't," Sara said. "I probably would, if I was in his place." She stared at the computer screen for a minute, then turned on her heel. "I'm gonna see what Catherine and Nick have."

The fingerprints Catherine got from Grissom's doorknob got a match through AFIS.

"Let me guess," Sara said with a pale expression. "Mark DeLuca?"

Catherine looked at her colleague in surprise. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"Warrick collected his scalp hairs from Grissom's floor."

"The guy was locked up two months ago," Nick stated, recalling the case Catherine and Grissom had closed. "What did he do, make bail?"

"Yeah," Sara answered grimly. "And he made Grissom his latest victim."

"At least he only suffered a concussion and one cracked rib," Catherine said in small reassurance. "It could have been a lot worse."

"I'm gonna call Brass. See if he can find this guy again." Sara stepped into the corridor and called Brass on her cell phone.

"DeLuca is a moron," Brass told her. "I'm willing to bet we'll find him sitting on that hideous orange couch again, tossing back a Bud Light."

"That's where he was before, wasn't he?" Sara said with a slight chuckle as she recalled seeing a picture of the couch in question. "I'm guessing he's a creature of habit?"

"You guess correctly, Miss Sidle," Brass answered. "Don't worry, if he's in this town, I'll find him."

"Thanks, Jim," Sara said with all sincerity. "And I'm really sorry I had to call you at home."

Brass smiled to himself. Sara was anxious about getting Grissom's attacker, and Brass thought it was rather sweet. "No apologies necessary," he said warmly. "Go home, Sara. Get some rest."

Since there was nothing more she could do at the lab that night, Sara did go home.

She was greeted at the door by two rambunctious felines who were thrilled to see her. Sara bent down and scratched their fuzzy heads, and they trotted after her down the hallway.

Sara kicked her shoes off and flung herself face-down and fully clothed on top of her queen-sized comforter.

The cats curled up next to her, and soon all three of them were sound asleep.

* * *

Sara glared through the two-way mirror into the small, plain room where twenty-three year old Mark DeLuca sat.

Brass stood across the table from him. "Are you a complete idiot?" he grunted. "Or just a half-wit?"

DeLuca looked somewhat drugged out, with dark circles under his eyes. "Huh?" he asked dumbly.

"You trying to make yourself a career of Assault and Battery?" Brass demanded. He shoved a few enlarged pictures towards DeLuca. "You break into a guy's house, knock him unconscious, and leave your hair and fingerprints behind. Not to mention the fact that you owe my friend a new front door."

DeLuca mumbled something.

"Speak up. I can't hear you." Brass controlled his anger, intent on getting this guy to confess.

"He deserved it!" DeLuca shouted. "Stuck me in jail just cause I roughed up my girlfriend's new loser Cop boyfriend."

Brass slammed a fist down on the table, making DeLuca jump. "Let me tell you something, pal. You mess with an officer of the law, you better watch your back. Cause it's gonna come back and get you. You should have learned your lesson two months ago when Grissom put you in jail."

Brass abruptly stopped his rant when Sara opened the door and stepped inside.

"I want to talk to him," she said determinedly.

Brass grinned menacingly. "Should I leave you two alone?" he asked dryly, having no real intention of actually leaving the room.

Sara shook her head, sending a dark look towards DeLuca. "I may need someone to pry my hands off his throat."

DeLuca squinted at Sara as she sat down in the chair across from him.

"Listen up, and you listen good," Sara began in deadly threatening tone, speaking slowly and deliberately. "I don't care who you think you are. To me, you're scum. You hurt someone very special to me. I don't take kindly to people who harm my friends or colleagues; you understand me?"

DeLuca swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded meekly.

Brass grinned to himself. He loved playing Good Cop/Bad Cop, and he had to admit, Sara was quite intimidating.

Sara leaned forward in her seat, staring him straight in the eye. "You're going down, buddy. You mess with my friends, you mess with me." In a low, terrifyingly sweet voice, she asked, "Tell me, Mark. Do I look like someone you really want to mess with?"

Mark DeLuca shrank down in his chair, eyeing Sara warily. "Is she crazy or something?" he asked Brass.

Brass glanced at Sara, seeming to contemplate the question.

Sara's eyes never left DeLuca's face, and her expression never wavered.

Brass looked back at DeLuca. "Care to find out?"

"Keep her away from me, man! She's nuts! I'll confess if you keep her away!"

Brass laughed at him. "You'll confess anyway, DeLuca. Although, we probably won't even need your confession. We have your fingerprints and DNA that place you at the scene."

"Grissom put you in jail," Sara added smoothly. "You had motive, wanting revenge on the man who locked you up. And being out on bail gave you plenty of opportunity."

"I wasn't trying to kill him!" DeLuca interjected frantically. "I just wanted to shake him up a little! I never killed anybody in my life! Never!"

"Count your blessings," Sara told him coldly. "Grissom didn't die."

DeLuca sighed in relief.

"But he _is_ in a hospital," she continued. "You banged him up pretty good." Sara leaned forward in her seat again. "You hurt my friend, Mark. I don't appreciate that," she said with a slow shake of her head, as if she were disciplining a wayward child. "I don't appreciate it one little bit."

DeLuca looked like he wanted to hide under the table. "I'm sorry," he said in a scared half-whisper.

"You should be." Sara stared him down as she rose from her seat. To the guards at the door, she said, "Get him out of here."

Mark DeLuca was led away in handcuffs.

"That was fun," Brass stated, grinning.

"Yeah, well..." Sara pushed the recently vacated chairs under the interrogation table. "It's the truth. People mess with my friends, they're gonna deal with me."

"Glad I'm on your side," Brass commented wryly. "Hey, how's Grissom doing, anyway?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him today." Sara looked at her watch. "I was hoping to visit the hospital in an hour."

Brass nodded, then grinned again. "Tell him I'm gonna send an exterminator into his office while he's gone."

Sara laughed. "You're meaner than I am, Jim."

Brass laughed too. "See ya later." He ambled down the hallway, mentally shouting for joy that they caught the guy. Again.

* * *

Sara found Grissom sitting up in bed and reading a book.

Grissom looked up as she came in. He offered her a smile. "I sweet-talked a nurse," he said proudly, holding up his book.

Sara read the title. "_Visions of Misery_. Hmm...well I guess you won't be needing this after all." She dangled his latest edition of 'Crossword Crossroads' in front of his face.

Grissom snatched it up. "Thank you," he said, carelessly tossing the nurse's book aside.

Sara looked around the room that was still devoid of any visitor chairs. "Doesn't this hospital have chairs?"

"Doesn't seem like it," Grissom answered. He scooted over and patted the mattress, inviting her to sit.

Sara took the exact spot she had claimed yesterday. "So how come they won't let you out till tomorrow? A simple cracked rib isn't the same as a heart attack or anything."

Grissom looked down sheepishly. "Because they're convinced that I won't rest enough if they let me out now."

Sara grinned at him. "Well, they're right about that."

"Be quiet, you," Grissom told her with a smile.

Sara fingered the smooth edge of Grissom's blanket. "We caught the guy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Mark DeLuca. He busted your door open, left some fingerprints and a few hairs." Sara shifted slightly and shook a few strands of hair out of her eyes. "Didn't take him long to confess. He's behind bars. Again."

"Good," Grissom answered. "He can't hurt anybody else."

"I'm sorry he hurt _you_," Sara answered softly, reaching out to touch Grissom's face.

Grissom reached up and linked his fingers with hers, much like Sara had done with him the day before. "Hey, does Nick still think we have ESP?" he asked with a grin.

Sara grinned back and shook her head. "Nope, not any more. I had to explain to everybody how I knew to check on you. I didn't want to spill your secret, but I also didn't want to be accused of withholding information."

"That's fine," Grissom assured her, absently running the first finger of his other hand across her wrist. "I wouldn't want you being accused of anything. You did good."

They silently gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, then Sara spoke with a little smile. "Brass is threatening to send an exterminator into your office while you're gone."

Grissom laughed. "You tell him if he does, I'll let my cockroaches loose in his office."

Sara's smile turned into a full-fledged grin as she met Grissom's eyes. Feeling a burst of shyness, she looked down at where her fingers lay intertwined with his.

Grissom also looked at their joined hands, then he looked up into Sara's face. He took a deep breath and forced his vocal cords to work. "Sara?"

"Yeah?"

His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he asked a very important question. "When I get out of here...would you like to have dinner with me?"

Sara processed the question in her mind, with the fleeting notion of saying no like Grissom had done before. But in her heart, Sara knew she couldn't bear to hurt him that way. "I'd like that," she answered softly.

"Good." Grissom's eyes twinkled at her. "I have one more question." At Sara's inquisitive expression, he asked hesitantly, "Can I kiss you?"

If Sara hadn't been already sitting, she would have fallen over in shock. That question was so unlike Grissom.

He received an answer...just not a verbal one as he had expected.

Mindful of his ribs, Sara leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against Grissom's.

The kiss was slow and taunting, and just as Sara started to move back, Grissom's arms snaked around her waist and held her down.

"Mmmm...am I hurting you?" Sara mumbled against his lips.

"Not a bit," he mumbled back.

They finally broke for air, and Sara moved to stretch out alongside Grissom, resting her cheek on his uninjured shoulder.

Grissom wrapped one arm around her, and stroked her dark, silky hair.

They held each other in comfortable silence.

After a while, though, Sara murmured, "I need to get back to work."

Grissom pressed a kiss into her hair. "If I throw a tantrum, will you stay?" he asked hopefully.

Sara laughed. "I wish I could. But those Night Shift people get kinda cranky when I don't show up and do my job."

"Yeah, I heard the boss is a real terror," Grissom deadpanned.

"The current one is," Sara remarked with a smirk, referring to Acting Supervisor Catherine Willows. "The regular boss, though...he's kinda cute." Teasingly, she added, "Bugs and all."

"Cute?" Grissom wrinkled his nose at her in mock offense. " 'Cute' describes a kitten that pounces on people's feet. I, madam, am not 'cute'."

"Hmm." Sara sat up on the edge of Grissom's bed. "Ruggedly handsome?" she offered.

Grissom pretended to consider it. "I can accept that," he answered with a nod.

Sara merely laughed at him. She cupped his face in her hands and leaned close. "Ruggedly handsome," she said softly. "With brilliantly blue eyes...very nice lips." Sara kissed the 'very nice' lips and added impishly, "And a really cute smile."

Grissom playfully scowled at her.

Sara patted his cheek and stood up. "I'll see you later." She took a step away, but Grissom caught her wrist gently in his hand, preventing her from leaving.

His soft blue eyes sent Sara an unmistakable silent message.

Sara willingly succumbed to one more long, tantalizing, breathless kiss.

The tip of his tongue grazed against her bottom lip, igniting their senses in a warm fire.

Sara reluctantly pulled away. "I really do need to leave now," she said softly, tracing Grissom's lower lip with her fingertip.

Grissom resisted the urge to pout. "Okay," he relented.

Sara's gaze fell on the strangely-titled book Grissom had borrowed from a nurse. "Well, since you have this lovely book to read, I think I'll take the crosswords with me," she teased, reaching for the 'Crossword Crossroads' booklet.

"Oh no you don't!" Grissom gripped the booklet with a strong hand, prying Sara's fingers away. "You can have the nurse's stupid book."

Sara snickered at his possessiveness and sauntered to the door. Before crossing the threshold, she turned and tossed him a pen. "Enjoy your puzzles."

Grissom caught the pen with a grin, opened his booklet of crossword puzzles, and settled back for a little entertainment.

* * *

"Ahh, this is the life," Sara gave a contented sigh as she leaned her head back onto Grissom's shoulder. "Good food, good wine, good music..."

Dusty and Coal chose that moment to come tearing through the living room at full speed, jumping onto the coffee table and knocking several magazines to the floor.

Grissom laughed. "And psychotic cats..." He tightened his arms around Sara, resting his chin on her shoulder and filling in a few blanks in the crossword puzzle book Sara held in her hand.

Sara snuggled deeper into Grissom's arms, enjoying the feel of his chest pressed against her back. She studied the crossword, wondering how to make the answer to one clue fit around the word Grissom had penciled in.

With a smirk, she erased the middle letter. "Should be an 'e', not 'i'," she informed him as she wrote in her answer.

Grissom raised an eyebrow as he read the clue and his answer. "Hmm. Well, I can't be right _all_ the time, can I?"

Sara chuckled at him and moved on, effortlessly breezing through the next few crossword questions. "Your ribs okay?" she asked.

"They feel great," Grissom replied, moving Sara's hair aside and kissing the back of her neck.

Sara tilted her head to give him better access. "Great enough for some physical activity?"

"What did you have in mind?" Grissom questioned mischievously.

Sara tossed her pencil and crossword book to the floor and turned over in Grissom's arms, holding him down with a long kiss.

Grissom returned the kiss wholeheartedly, his arms pinning Sara against his body. "I like how your mind works."


End file.
